Reintroduction
by Vaneria Potter
Summary: Waking up sixty years out-of-date isn't easy, nor is adjusting. But nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Post-Captain America
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, The Avengers, or any associated characters. Stating the obvious, much?_

_Summary: Being sixty years out of date isn't easy. Neither is adjusting to modern-day society. But nothing worthwhile is ever easy._

* * *

**REINTRODUCTION**

It was very frustrating to be stuck inside because you were likely to injure yourself due to not having the first idea about what was going on outside.

Steve Rodgers, a.k.a Captain America, had gone to sleep (or been knocked unconscious) after deliberately crashing his plane in World War II, and woken up in a hospital bed sixty years later, when everyone he knew was dead or changed beyond recognition on either of their parts, when the world had changed so much that he saw almost nothing familiar, and when everyone kept making culture references _that he didn't understand because he had been unconscious for the past seventy years!_

Nick Fury, current Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, had been trying to think up a way to re-introduce him to society, but it was slow going. Everyone was either too in awe of the legendary Captain America, or insisted on treating him with kid gloves, as though he were a delicate child. For now, Steve had given up on that avenue and was working on getting back into his former fit condition. Solitude gave him perhaps too much time to think, but it was better than being in a crowd that walked on eggshells and whispered whenever he was in the room.

That was why he was so annoyed when he heard the click of heeled shoes and the door opening while he was in the middle of a workout. Still, he had been raised better than to be rude to a lady (presumably the visitor was female – most men didn't wear heeled shoes), and plastered a polite look onto his face as he turned around.

It was a woman, perhaps a few years younger than him, but despite her office-like clothing, she didn't seem to be here on business. Her hair was dark, trying to escape the long braid, and she had green eyes. Her accent was neither American nor English, though the proper enunciation of the words suggested the latter. "I've been searching the entire place for some peace and quiet, and this is the only area I haven't looked yet." Her voice was soft, but clear, as she held up a plastic container and a book. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

As long as she didn't pepper him with questions, Steve didn't care. "Go ahead."

True to her promise, she was quiet, except for the crunching when she reached the apple and carrot sticks part of her lunch, and Steve actually forgot that she was even there until she stood up, looking at the clock. "I have to get back, but thanks for letting me stay."

Perhaps it was the novelty of human company that didn't treat him with near-religious awe or as if he was an object to be studied that made Steve speak. "You can come back tomorrow, if you like."

* * *

She did come back the next day, bearing two thermos containers of some kind of chowder. "I figured it would be polite to bring something, in case you were hungry, too. No pressure."

She left one thermos on the bench next to his towel and water, then opened a different book to the day before and leaned back against the wall, occasionally sipping from the other thermos as she read.

Steve appreciated the gesture, and thanked her for it, but focused on his training, only looking up when she left again, as quiet as she came.

* * *

The same thing happened with left-over beef stew the third day and a very simple fruit salad on the fourth day. Each time, she came in, left something on the bench, and sat in an out of the way corner for an hour. She had a different book each day, which suggested a very fast and eclectic reader, since he had seen her reading a small volume of Edgar Allen Poe, a Science-Fiction novel, a book with a dragon on the cover, and what looked like a book on Egyptian Mythology.

* * *

The fifth day, he had to ask. "I know trained soldiers who don't move as quietly as you. Are you one of the agents here?"

She shook her head and laughed. "I used to work in a day-care centre, until two thirds of the class graduated into primary school and they were suddenly very overstaffed. Loud footsteps during nap-time are a bad idea. Would you like a muffin? I brought extra."

Apparently, she either had a weakness for muffins, or she had overestimated his appetite. Still, between the war and the fact that he was on an army base, it had been years since Steve had tasted much beyond army rations. Apple and cinnamon muffins, if he was right.

He was, and they were quite good. She smiled when he complimented her, admitting that baking and soups were about the only thing she could really cook, and he realized that he was missing something important. "I should have introduced myself before, and I apologize for that, ma'am. I'm Captain Steve Rodgers."

She smiled again, and despite her otherwise fairly plain appearance, Steve decided that she had a nice smile. "Irena Rose, it's nice to meet you."

Irene was a Greek name, but the modification, along with her colouring suggested a more northern origin. "Slavic?"

Irena shook her head. "Australian. Mum wanted at least one child to have an exotic name, but she shot down Dad's suggestion of Nikkita."

One of Steve's cousins had been stuck with the name Alessandrea for exactly that reason. "Ah."

* * *

The sixth day was sandwiches and splitting an orange, because Irena had overslept and barely had time to throw that together, breakfast consisting of a muesli bar hastily eaten on the train. Given the still-damp and messier-than-usual bun she wore, Steve suspected that lunch wasn't the only thing she had rushed that morning.

It was kind of flattering.

* * *

It had been a week since the first visit, and Steve was surprised that he was actually starting to enjoy it. He hadn't had time to ask a question before, but took the chance now. "If you're Australian, what are you doing on a S.H.I.E.L.D base? I mean, Governments don't usually transfer agents, and your accent isn't neutral enough for you to have been here long."

Irena inclined her head. "I'm taking a year or two to travel, and visiting my Grandfather – well, my stepmother's father, but close enough – and he gets called in for consultation sometimes. There was no-one else to leave me with and he didn't like the visit being interrupted, so he brought me along, and I was running low on money, so I'm staying at a motel while helping with the very-low-level paperwork. Coffee runs, filling things out in triplicate, that sort of thing."

That was interesting, but if Irena was as quiet in the workplace as she was here, people probably forgot that she was even there. "Your Grandfather?"

She nodded. "Air force Captain Richard Wilson. I met him for the first time three years ago, but apparently he likes me. What about you?"

Steve blinked at the change of subject. "Me? What do you mean?"

She gave him a Look, much like Peggy when she thought he was being dense. "We've only talked about me and my life so far. Who were your friends? What was your family like? What do you enjoy doing?"

That was an odd question, in some ways. "You mean it isn't in my file? Or Public Knowledge in old newspapers?"

Irena shrugged. "S.H.I.E.L.D isn't exactly shouting your return from the rooftops, and frankly, those of us Down Under would be a lot more impressed if you were some ANZAC hero brought back to life." Her smile was the tiniest bit wicked. "Outside of America, you actually aren't that big of a deal."

When he got a bit more adjusted to 'Modern Life', Steve was giving serious consideration to moving to Australia. After the constant staring and fan-worship, annoying even before he had been frozen, being Semi-Anonymous was sounding wonderful.

* * *

The tenth day, Irena didn't show up, and everyone was tip-toing around even worse than usual. Steve was surprised to discover that he was actually upset about this. He hadn't realized that he had actually started to look forward to her visits.

According to Agent Hill, when Steve asked her, Director Fury had found out that an unauthorized foreigner had been wandering around the complex more or less alone for over a week, and several people had been very thoroughly yelled at.

Fury was even less pleased when he discovered that said unauthorized foreigner had been taking lunch on a daily basis with one of their most closely-guarded secrets, and had not been thrilled that Steve would prefer that said lunches continue.

Still, it was as good an introduction to society as they had managed so far, and Fury finally relented enough to allow the lunches to continue – as long as they took place in street-clothes, and were monitored by several agents of Fury's choosing.

There was no room for that to work in the training room, so Irena took him to a favourite café. It meant that lunch was later, since they went after the mid-day rush died down, but it was fun. Apparently, Irena wasn't very 'with-the-times', either, and a lot of slang or pop-culture references went over her head, thanks to a preference for books over Celebrity Gossip. They found themselves talking, and Irena would either explain as they went along, or if she didn't know, suggest an outrageous theory before they tried to look it up.

The term 'n00b', for example, did not mean "someone hit the wrong key while attempting to type the hugely appropriate eighteenth century slang for on idiot", but was actually shorthand for 'Newcomer'.

* * *

He knew better than to talk about state secrets of the Serum that had made him the first Super-Soldier, even to his closest friends, but it was only fair to return information about himself, and the curious, almost bird-like head-tilt when Irena listened to someone was kind of cute. Over sodas and a long roll stuffed with salad and various fillings, that Irena called a 'sub', he started.

"My parents were Irish Immigrants, and my best friend was James Barnes, or Bucky, as most called him. I was the scrawny kid on the block and got rejected from Army enlistment at least five times."

Actually, it was more than five, but he wasn't about to admit that. Irena raised an eyebrow, giving his current physique a pointed look. Steve almost blushed. "That came later. Anyway, I finally got recruited for a special task force, and I hope you'll understand that I can't go into the rest between then and when I somehow wound up frozen in stasis until about a year ago."

Irena nodded seriously. "Grandfather mentioned something about a flagpole and much grumbling about the reward…?"

Get the flag, win a date with Peggy. Steve had lost count of the number of people calling him a lucky SOB over that. "Tell me, how would you go about getting a flag down from a greased flagpole?"

Irena tilted her head again as she considered. "Do I have access to the rope-pulley system used to get it up there in the first place?"

Steve shook his head. "It was fixed in place before they raised the flagpole."

Irena slowly nodded. "How high is it? Could two people lift a third on their shoulders to reach it?"

The soldiers had been too busy fighting each other to try it, but the pole was still slightly too tall for that. "Not quite."

Irena nodded again. "Ok, and the grease makes it impossible to get a handhold without some kind of equipment that I'll assume we're not allowed to use?"

Steve grinned, wondering if it was good or bad that Irena hadn't been born when he was growing up. It would have been nice to have her as a friend before he became Captain America, but she would have been in Australia then, and certainly not here now. Maybe it was a good thing. "no equipment."

Irena was quiet, then seemed to come to a decision. "How is the pole fixed to the ground? If it's a hinge or a simple dig-in, you could just take out the pin or pull it up, and I can't see concrete on a temporary army base."

Steve laughed. "And for some reason, I was the only one who thought of that. The prize was the rest of the day off training and a date with a very pretty female attaché. Hence the grumbling."

Irena covered a wicked giggle. "If it helps at all, I tend to have a different thought process to most people, and soldiers are used to following orders in the most direct manner possible. 'Get the Flag' probably made them immediately think of the fastest way, rather than taking the time to rationalize a longer process of elimination."

It was nice of her to say so, but Steve couldn't help his mind going back to another intelligent, dark-haired woman. Irena noticed, and placed a gentle hand on his wrist. "I brought back memories, didn't I? I'm sorry. What was their name?"

Both of whom could be far too perceptive. "Peggy. Somehow, the prize date went on to a second date and spending time together between missions. Before I left on the last mission, I asked her to wait for me, and I haven't been able to get anyone to help me find out what happened to her. I don't know if she died, or never married, or took a partner, or had children. If she's still alive, does she know I'm back? It was a few months ago for me, but a lifetime for her."

Irena's eyes held compassion and comprehension. Maybe it had to do with most of her friends being male as she grew up, but she seemed to have a basic grasp of the masculine thought process, and Steve obviously wasn't proud of the possibility that Peggy hadn't moved on, but also worried about if she had. "And all of those maybes would have been her choice. Maybe she thought that others couldn't compare, or she didn't want to move on with someone else. Maybe she knew that you would always have a place in her heart, but there was room for others, too. Maybe she didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone, or she didn't believe that you were really dead, or any number of reasons. Whatever she did, thinking that it's somehow your fault is very self-centred."

Steve almost spluttered at the statement, but the agents were standing up, signaling that lunch was over. His mind still half in the past, Steve fell back on the manners he had been raised with, standing quickly and holding out a hand. "What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

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_A/N: My knowledge of the comics is very limited, so this will be mostly movie-verse. For now, it's just a one-shot, but I may continue it if people think that it's good enough._

_As my first Marvel fic outside of X-Men, I would love constructive feedback, even if it's only to point out my mistakes._

_Thanks, Nat._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, or The Avengers, or any of the associated characters._

_Summary: See previous chapter_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Steve hadn't realized how much he had come to value Irena's company, or rely on her to keep him from thinking about what was only weeks ago to him, but decades to the rest of the world.

She sent him daily emails, possibly in an attempt to force him to learn to use modern technology, but that was one of the few areas that he had been procrastinating. He was starting to regret that, but there was no way that he was going to ask for help in reading a letter from a lady and confident.

That didn't mean that Captain Wilson hadn't offered, though Steve had a sneaking suspicion that the offer was more to see the famed Captain America look absolutely horrified at the thought of Irena's grandfather reading their personal messages.

He was probably right, as rumour had it that Director Fury had actually snickered when Agent Hill told him about the offer and Steve's reaction.

Speaking of the director of SHIELD, Steve was still annoyed at the man.

Fury had tried to set him up with another girl while Irena was away, reasoning that if daily lunches were a good way to get Steve back in society, then he could do it with an American girl covered by a National Secrets clause.

Steve told him to forget it. He had the greatest respect for women in the Armed Forces, but 'Modern' women were still too much of a culture shock. Steve had seen women in skirts and short-sleeved blouses before, although the skinny kid he had been never had a hope of asking them out or exchanging more than a few words. Peggy was still the toughest, bluntest and most independent woman Steve had ever met, and it had been one of the things that attracted him to her.

What he was not used to was woman who went around in clothing that covered about as much as a bathing suit, if that, informed him that they wouldn't mind skipping lunch and taking the meeting back to their house/apartment/wherever, and seemed to think that going out to lunch on Fury's orders meant that they were automatically in a relationship.

Steve's Irish Catholic parents would have strung him up by the balls (to use some of the more colourful phrasing Steve had overheard) if he had even considered sleeping with a girl on a first date, especially when it wasn't even a first date. He had been raised better than that, and Steve could almost hear his mother's loud disapproval of their clothing choices. "_Street clothes? Clothes for a Street__**walker**__, perhaps, but not for any young lady I'd be willing to see you court! When you meet a nice young lady with a sense of propriety, then you can bring her home, but I'll not have that one under my roof!"_

The thought made Steve smile and wonder if his parents would have approved of Irena.

He liked to think so. Part of why he enjoyed her company was that her mannerisms reminded him of before he joined the Army. Irena was assertive when she needed to be, and wasn't slow in confronting someone who was openly disrespectful, regardless of gender, and on the rare occasion that she wore something that didn't go to at least the knee, it was always coupled with leggings.

Steve put his foot down, told Fury that he wasn't going on any more lunch outings with girls he didn't even know, and went back to spending every spare moment in a training room.

* * *

Irena looked tired (understandable, given the time zone difference) but she still smiled when Steve swallowed his pride long enough to ask Black Widow to help him hook up Skype for a long distance talk and called her. "How is your holiday going? I'm betting that California changed a lot while I was asleep."

Irena launched into a long story of what she had been doing during her holiday, pausing to explain a few newer developments. Steve had the feeling that trips to Sea World and Disneyland or California Adventure Park were going to be in his near future. Well, it wouldn't be too different to taking a girl to Coney Island or a fun fair.

Except this time the girl wasn't going with him as a favour to Bucky, and might actually give him the time of day.

* * *

Steve hadn't been entirely idle, either. Finding someone who worshipped the legend of Captain America hadn't been hard, but finding someone willing to edge around Fury's orders had. Finally, however, he got Captain Wilson to help him look up Peggy's current residence and drive him to the nursing home.

Ironically, it was the same one that Captain Wilson's wife was currently staying at, so he had an excuse.

Peggy recognized him, quite well, and proved that seventy years hadn't dulled the edge of the woman who had once loudly informed a troop of Commandos that they had less energy than her deceased grandmother. It was strangely peaceful, hearing the story of her life, when the last thing he had heard was her heartbroken voice desperately pretending that everything would be all right, supporting him in the only way she could as he directed the plane into the depths of the Arctic Ocean.

Peggy had never stopped loving him, but she had eventually moved on, marrying Bucky after bonding over their shared grief. Bucky had died only a few years ago, but they had been happy and shared a good life. She even smiled as she 'forgave' him for missing their raincheck dance. Peggy was glad to see that he had survived, after all, but even if she was still the younger woman he had known, romance was no longer in the cards.

Her energy levels were no longer as high as they had once been, and she began to drift off into sleep, but managed to remain awake long enough to order him to find the same happiness she had with someone, even if it wasn't her.

She closed her eyes, and Steve kissed her for the first and last time before he quietly left.

* * *

Irena was back, and let him push his lunch around the plate before she ordered him to either start talking about whatever was bothering him, or come up with an enjoyable topic to distract them both before Fury tried to cancel lunches off-base altogether.

Steve told her about finding and visiting Peggy, and the conflict between doing as she said, and attempting to forget the feelings that they had shared in what was only a very few short months for him. Irena let the topic drop as he forced the discussion to recounting happier times with Bucky and with the small team he had put together.

For the first time, Steve held Irena's hand as they walked back to base. Before she had been a potential girlfriend, Peggy had been a friend, and the first woman with whom he had shared a conversation lasting longer than a minute. Irena was a friend, the first woman with whom he had shared a conversation lasting longer than an hour. "I don't know if it's still there, but there was a club not far away from here. I guess I need to learn to dance some time."

Irena laughed. "Just don't expect me to teach you. I'm a History Nut. I know all of the cut Branles, most of the mime Branles, all of the Galliard variations and a few Renaissance court dances, but nothing that either of us could consider modern, aside from severely making-it-up-as-you-go at my Year Ten Formal."

Steve hoped that he managed to keep his sigh of relief quiet. "That's probably a good thing. This way we can step on each other's toes, instead of just me. Saturday, at seven o'clock?"

Irena smiled almost shyly. "Don't be late."

* * *

The club that Peggy had picked for their 'raincheck dance' was no longer there, but Captain Wilson was again willing to lend a hand in finding a nice place for dinner and dancing. He did, however, warn Steve that this was, to his knowledge, perhaps the second time that he knew of that Irena had danced with anyone who wasn't firmly in the category of either 'brother figure' or 'random dance partner', so Steve had better at least try to make sure that she enjoyed the night.

Irena had turned pink and muttered something about 'interfering old matchmakers' when Steve told her about it.

Not really ready to delve into that statement, Steve looked through the jukebox options, trying to find something familiar. Bing Cosby, Judy Garland, Jo Stafford… none of them seemed to be on the list. Irena finally located something that wasn't by some outrageous name. ('_Lady Gaga'?_ Really?) "Harry Belafonte was a bit after your time, and Calypso music wasn't really popular before him, but I think you'll like it. Plus, the lyrics are really catchy and he's got a voice like melted chocolate."

Steve assumed that having a chocolate-like voice was a good thing, and admitted that the music was good, if unfamiliar. '_Jamaica Farewell'_ held a note of sorrowful yearning that struck a chord deep inside him, but he was distracted by Irena's gently swaying to the melody, and at least it explained the 'Dear Liza, dear Liza' additions that everyone kept making reference to whenever someone else was becoming tedious.

Better still, it was lively enough to dance to, and light-hearted enough that no-one cared if they tripped over each other's feet while learning on the spot. The sparkle in Irena's eyes as he spun her was enough to make Steve ignore the teens snickering behind their backs.

That didn't mean he was above a bit of petty revenge, however. "At least I'm willing to dance, instead of ignoring my date to stare at another girl."

That wasn't exactly true, but it put the idiots on the spot with their respective partners, who then dragged them onto the dance floor, to the smirking DJ's obvious amusement. Irena bumped Steve with her hip as they sat down to order dinner, smiling widely.

It may have been Steve's first date that wasn't more along the lines of "_I-Don't-Want-To-Go-Solo-And-I'm-Doing-Bucky-A-Favour-By-Taking-Pity-On-You_", but he thought that it went well.

* * *

The next day, he was in the training room again, waiting for Irena to show up for lunch, when Fury entered, offering a mission.

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_A/N: Right, second chapter is up, and I edited the first chapter a bit to match. It's shorter than the first chapter, but I hope you enjoy._

_As always, Constructive Criticism is appreciated._

_Thanks, Nat_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, or The Avengers, or any of the associated characters. Wouldn't mind owning Fury, though. The man is all kinds of awesome._

_Summary: See Previous Chapters_

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Steve had long-since decided that one of Irena's best qualities was her gift for listening, and hearing what a person _didn't_ say, as much as what they did. A very good thing, as Steve had never been good with words that hadn't been pre-scripted. Even then, he wasn't very good, unless it was spur-of-the-moment patriotism.

A soldier never openly questioned his commanding officer, and Steve couldn't go into details but it was nice to have someone who wouldn't try to defend S.H.I.E.L.D. or Fury or their questionable decisions as Steve ranted.

Well, ranted, waved his arms, and paced around his small apartment after throwing down the dossier that S.H.I.E.L.D. had prepared on the upcoming mission. She smiled very faintly at some of the words he used while bluntly expressing his opinion on Government Agencies who insisted on playing with dangerous things that they didn't understand and that apparently had the potential to wipe out the planet. That would have been more than enough to get him angry, even without the fact that this dangerous source was the very energy cube that he had deliberately crashed himself to keep OUT of anyone's reach. Hadn't once been enough? What would they be forced to sacrifice this time to keep the Tesseract out of the wrong hands?

Bloody Political Idiots! Especially Councils of Defence who were somehow never the ones who had to get their hands dirty fixing the problems that their 'bright ideas' created!

There was a brief flicker of amusement in his possibly-girlfriend's eyes as she stood and enfolded him in a hug that was more of a "I'm-Going-To-Put-My-Arms-Around-You-And-Hang-On-Until-You-Stop-Pacing".

Steve still hadn't got around to getting a second chair (none of Fury's people ever stayed around long enough to sit down), so he didn't object to sitting on the kitchen counter as she opened the small fridge. "You need to go shopping. Did you want juice, tea, or something stronger?"

Steve refused to admit that he was slightly intimidated by the huge shopping centres that had replaced the local grocers that he remembered. Besides, he didn't drink on missions, which meant possibly a long time before his next beer. "Are you free tomorrow? I'll take a beer if there is one."

The look Irena gave him was very like the one he faintly remembered his mother directing at his father on occasion, when both were still alive, and maybe Irena's ability to hear what people _didn't_ say wasn't such a good thing. "You have to go there sometime, and pay attention to what is in your fridge or pantry."

She passed him a beer, along with a bottle of water for herself, and hoisted herself up next to him, sinking into the comfortable silence that Steve welcomed. The scene was almost domestic. It was broken by a knock on the door, and Fury letting himself in. "Good, you're both here."

That was a mild surprise, as the impression so far had been that Fury _really_ didn't like Irena. Everyone knew it, too, which was probably why Irena sounded suspicious. "What did you need to speak to me about?"

Fury didn't look too pleased, which was actually reassuring. "You know enough about the Captain that we don't want to leave you behind for someone hostile to catch, and we are bringing several unknowns, most of whom I don't trust as far as I can throw. Most of my personnel are trained to fight, not to talk or act invisible, and Stark annoys them enough that they don't listen. Like it or not, that makes you my best option."

Neither of them were quite convinced. "Why the turn-around from being convinced that she was a foreign informant?"

Fury scowled. "You don't know enough about technology to figure out how most of our equipment works, much less sabotage or report it. And we'll be too busy with the important things to deal with minor paperwork."

He stalked back out before either of them could refuse, warning them to be ready to leave at 0600 the next morning. Irena sighed, "Well, it looks like I'll be spending the evening doing laundry and packing. Hopefully somewhere will still have affordable accommodation when we get back."

Steve shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I'm pretty sure I can get a camp-bed, if you don't mind staying the night, and there's a free laundry downstairs."

It was the most forward that he had ever been with any girl, Peggy included, but given how forward some of the women in this time were, hopefully Irena wouldn't be too offended. If she was, she didn't show it, or perhaps practicality won over propriety. "I appreciate that. I hate mornings, and it would have been worse if I had to get here from where I'm staying, as well."

It hadn't been too long since Steve had slept on a camp-bed or the ground, at least not long for him, and while his original plan to ask Irena out to dinner that night had been scrapped as soon as he read the file on the Tesseract, eating in wasn't too bad. "I'll see if I can work out getting a pizza while you pack."

Irena laughed, hugging him properly.

* * *

Perhaps Irena and S.H.I.E.L.D had chosen a bad time to enlighten Steve about the end of WWII and the other wars between then and now. Steve was doing his best not to judge, but seeing a documentary of Hiroshima, and now the knowledge that both Starks had made their fortune through Nuclear Weaponry (though Iron Man had recently switched his production to non-weapon developments) had not made a good impression.

Well, it explained why Peggy's eyes had flashed when he briefly mentioned Howard, and her terse statement that she hadn't spoken to him again after Hiroshima, which had led to him looking up that incident in the first place.

The two agents known as the Black Widow and as Hawkeye were professionals, and Steve could see himself working with them easily enough. The files on Howard's son, on the supposed god, Thor, and on the Alter-Ego best known as 'The Hulk', were less reassuring. Also a bit uncomfortable was that the Agent assigned to him, Agent Phil Coulson, was a bit of a Captain America fanboy. Unused to that kind of male attention from anyone over the age of ten, Steve avoided the issue by re-reading the files on the Tesseract, while Irena alternated between her latest book – the cover of which suggested Norse Mythology – and fielding questions. Steve finally closed the file and looked up. "This Stark guy – he sounds smart."

That was a non-judgemental statement, right? Coulson nodded, and Steve continued. "So Doctor Banner, he was trying to replicate the Super-soldier Serum?"

Irena's eyes flickered up from her book, and she started turning pages a lot slower, indicating that she was Listening as the Agent replied. "A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

If it did, Steve was really thankful that Dr Erskine had used a different formula. "Didn't really go his way, did it?"

Coulson shook his head. "Not so much. When he's got that thing though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking."

Steve looked blank and glanced at Irena, who unfortunately looked as confused as he did. "Simile Slang, I think. Could you elaborate on that one, please, Agent?"

Coulson nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "Stephan Hawking. He's like a… really smart person."

The other two nodded, lapsing into silence, which the agent tried to fill. "I gotta say, it's an honour to meet you, officially. I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

Steve wasn't sure whether to feel weirded out or amused as Agent Coulson realized exactly how that sounded and tried to recover. "Er, I mean, I was...I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really, it's just a...just a huge honor to have you on board."

Steve stood up, more for the sake of movement than anything, leaning one arm against the bulwark. "Well, I hope I'm the man for the job."

Agent Coulson tried to mirror his pose, causing Irena to raise her book, hiding the lower half of her face, particularly the smile that was lurking at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, you are. Absolutely. Uh...we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve spotted Irena trying very hard not to laugh, and tried to draw attention away. It was a nice thought, and the Agent sounded proud enough that Steve felt obligated to avoid actually saying that he would be just as happy to never see the uniform again, and that regular Army fatigues were more comfortable. "The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little… old fashioned?"

Coulson shook his head, and the hero-worship dimmed for a moment, speaking soldier to soldier. "Everything that happened… everything that's going to come to light… I think that a little old-fashioned might be just what we need."

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_A/N: Right, chapter three is up!_

_I warn you now, any original character has the potential to go seriously wrong, but I am trying my best not to turn Irena into a Mary-Sue. She won't be going on Missions, or turn into a great fighter, or really do anything other than what Fury said: be there for Steve, be out of hostile reach, and Listen, because Iron Man is smart, but everyone is too busy trying not to strangle him to pay attention._

_As always, constructive criticism is very much appreciated._


End file.
